The Fix
by DrWhohouselock221b
Summary: House is testing out a new drug that is supposed to regrow muscle. He's been using it with no results, but one day he realizes that the drug is actually working. What if the drug had lasted longer than just a few days. Pretty angsty, focus on H/W Friendship. Rewrite of the episode "The Fix." Set season 7 episode 21 and 22. H/c, no slash. Cover by Avalantis on Deviant Art.
1. Another Lost Cause

Chapter 1

Another Lost Cause

House's jean clad legs hung off the edge of his kitchen table. His knuckles were white with his grip on the table. He lifted his leg up a few inches with the red rubber band attached to his ankle, and the table leg. Excruciating pain shot through his thigh and hip stopping partly up his back. His breathing was quickened. He closed his eyes, resting his torn muscle before he tried again. This time the muscle was too weak to hold the tension and his leg fell back.

Only one last thought ran through House's mind before he dropped the little brown pouch containing the drug in the trash bin- _Another lost Cause._ He'd tried plenty of experimental drugs before, some that were meant for 90 year olds with broken hip bones, and some meant for dogs with arthritis. None of them had worked for longer than a few days. He hoped this one was going to be the one, with so much success in the rats, a glimmer of hope had sparked in him. He also knew that the amount of muscle needed in a thigh to fully support a 57 year old male's body was much larger than a rat's muscle. With another failed drug, he grabbed his cane and limped with a wince to grab his brown overcoat. It wasn't extremely cold outside, but he was going to be coming home late tonight.

He lifted his leg into his car and turned the car on when his phone rang. _Wilson_ the phone read. House sighed, but answered. "Y'ellow." he answered.

"Are you busy?" Wilson asked.

"Depends on what you mean by busy? I've got a hooker in my room and 2 empty beer bottles on my night stand." House tried.

Wilson's almost silent sigh was heard on the other end, House got curious. "But...I can save the other 2 bottles for later. What's up?" Wondering what Wilson wanted.

Wilson's humorous grunt was heard on the other end, "Just wondering if you'd want to meet up Rodger's for a beer. Sounds like you've already got a bit of a buzz going though."

"Actually, my tolerance to alcohol is much higher than just two beers. You should know that, you're the one who helped me raise it." House shot back, "I'll be at Rodger's in 10...if that's okay with you, of course." He rubbed his leg, and waited for a reply.

"Yeah sure, be there in 10." Wilson replied, then hung up.

 **10 Minutes Later**

House pulled up into the parking lot of Rodger's, sitting in his car for a few minutes to make sure Wilson didn't know he had left as soon as they got off the phone. Wilson would have been really suspicious of House's punctuality. Within the next five minutes House had ordered his first drink, waiting for Wilson to step through the door. As soon as he took his first sip, a tired looking Wilson pulled out the stool next to him. He ordered a _Boundary Ale,_ before even acknowledging House.

"Tough day?" House said following a sip of his drink.

"Are we doing this today? Talking about our feelings?" Wilson said. He was met with a few seconds of silence, then "Yeah. I had to diagnose a 13 year old girl with lung cancer. She's not expected to live much longer since it's an abnormally aggressive type, on top of being lung cancer at least." He put his head in his hand, taking a deep breath. "Why did I decide to become an oncologist?" Wilson asked.

After a few seconds, House answered. "Because you like people. Because you're _good_ with people. You know how to make even the most painful things bearable, and people appreciate you for it. Even if you do have to deal with a lot of tough things on a daily basis, you keep going, still gaining hope along the way." Wilson was a little shocked at the answer he received. He turned to look at House, who was taking a swig of his beer looking straight ahead. There was a loud crash to the left of House. Both of them turned to find the source of the noise. Someone had broken a beer bottle on the counter, in the midst of a heated argument. House's cane had been hooked on the bar next to him, but now the smaller guy in the argument saw it as a potential weapon and lunged for it. He had it in his hands, House hopped off of his stool with speed and grabbed the top of it.

"No so fast pal, don't you know it's rude to steal?" He said.

"'ey get of' me old mahn." He said with slurred speech. Ripping it from his grasp. He stepped forward, only to be spun around by House's strong grip on his shoulder. "Hey I sa'd get of' me!" He slurred again, pulling back the cane and hitting House right in the jaw. He stumbled backwards, catching himself with his right leg. He stopped, stunned. A short flare of pain was shooting up his thigh...but it was _holding_ him. He looked at Wilson, who was trifling with the perp who had stolen his cane. Soon enough some off duty cop had noticed the commotion and given up his free time to sort out the situation, retrieving the cane and handing it to House, who took it with a nod of thanks, sitting back down on his stool with Wilson following. "You okay?" Wilson asked, his eyebrows pinched in concern. "Hm? Yeah...Fine." He said, pulling his hand back from touching his cheek and noticing blood on his fingers. "I think I'm gonna head home." He said to a puzzled Wilson. "Oh, yeah, sure. I guess I will too...See you tomorrow House." He said, before House slid off the stool and lent lightly on his cane, heading to his car.

* * *

 **Well Hello! This is my second story written for the House Fandom, I was watching the episode "The Fix" when I a whole story just popped into my head. I hope it's interesting, it might be a little slow this chapter. Not a good way to start off a whole book, but bear with me, it's about to get reeeeeeaaaally angsty. If you haven't already, check out my other story "Requiem For House" and PLEASE don't forget to REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!**

 **I appreciate you all, Archer**


	2. No Place Like Hell

Chapter 2

This is Progress

 **Okay so this is the next part of The Fix, it's kind of normal life in the hospital, everything going great and then something big happens. Hope you enjoy. The next chapter will be a bit heavy on the whump and angst. Expect some Huddy moments and some graphic depictions of blood and what not. Almost same as the episode. Definetley gonna go heavy on the H/C though. *Shrug* if you don't like it, then stop reading. Love you all, Archer**

* * *

As House stepped in to his apartment, he tested the strength in his leg by taking a few unaided steps. He placed all of his weight on it, for a few seconds he was able to stand their with an even gate before the pain began to grow to an excruciating level. This was progress. He limped to the trash bin in his kitchen, testing his leg along the way, and retrieved the discarded brown pouch and the red rubber band.

After attaching the band back onto the table and hooking it up to his ankle, he injected himself with the med. He waited a few seconds, he lifted his right leg up till it was almost even with the table and waited for a few seconds. He began to laugh, "It's working." He said to himself. "It's working." He said again. He did 6 more lifts before he stopped and rested his leg. The damage muscle was beginning to throb with pain, but he could feel the strain of the muscle from the work he had put it through. He smiled to himself, hopping off of the table and unhooking the band from his ankle.

 **11 Hours Later**

House walked briskly into PPTH, ignoring the nurse's stares. He had a smile on his face, and not to mention the purplish bruise and gash that were engulfing his cheek bone. As soon as he pushed the door open with his cane to the Differential Room, Chase, Foreman and Cameron's head popped up. "Got a case?" House said to them. "What happened to your face?" Chase asked. His eyebrows creasing with curiosity.

"Got into a bar fight. Guy wanted to teach me a lesson by beating me with my own cane." Foreman picked up the blue file and handed it to House and began the overview:

"Three Year old Iranian Girl presented with fever and splenomegaly. On physical examination we found a palpable spleen just below the costal margin." Foreman finished.

House tossed the folder onto the table.

"Did you already run a blood test?" He asked.

"Uh...No, we were waiting for you to take a look at it first." Foreman said.

"Aw, how...dependent." He walked over to the white board without aid and a slight limp and hung his cane on the edge. "Contestant number one, what's your answer." He pointed the marker at Cameron;

"Well, could be a splenic vein obstruction, it's less common in 3 year olds, but it could definitely happen." She said.

"Almost everything is less common in 3 year olds, but she hasn't been vomiting and her stool isn't bloody." Foreman replied.

House looked down and took a deep breath, "Okay, so no obstruction. Where'd you say she was from again?" House asked.

"Iran." Cameron said.

"Go run the Coomb's test. When you get the results back, start her on an antifungal."

The duckling's got up and left. House turned to enter his office. He sat at his computer, sipping his coffee. He lent back and began to think. He hadn't been experiencing any side effects of the drug...yet. That was never a good sign, but he didn't want to ruin his almost pain free discovery just yet so he pushed off launching a whole investigation on it. He decided to meet up with Wilson for lunch, and headed down to the cafeteria. His leg felt great. It felt stronger, more willing to take the day's beatings. He tested it, by walking with a lot less reliance on the cane. He didn't want to raise the suspicion of him being on drugs again though, so he didn't get rid of it completely. He laid off the Vicodin a bit, not taking as much as usual. He didn't _need_ it as much. Wilson had come up to his office earlier and talked to him about the fight at the bar that night. Oh Wilson, always caring about things that don't need to be cared about. House thought.

By the end of the day, he didn't have that normal ache and soreness he usually did at the end of a long case that included a lot of walking. Instead, he felt the soreness of a hard working muscle. He decided to push it a little. House grabbed the red rubber band and did a few before sitting on the couch and relaxing. Eventually falling asleep.

Waking up on the couch hadn't been one of House's greatest ideas, it never was a good idea with his leg anyways. His leg was extremely sore and the pain was increased. He realized though that the pain wasn't normal, it was a pain that dug into his bones and made his whole leg ache. It wasn't just the muscle sending bolts of pain through his leg and back now. At first he brushed it off, but as soon as he got into the hospital he was going to get an MRI of his thigh. Privately at that. Right after giving the duckling's more tests to run, he limped as inconspicuously as possible to get the MRI. He lay on the table, waiting nervously for it to start up. If there were tumors, he wasn't going to go to a hospital and get them removed. He'd be in serious trouble. Not only with law enforcement but with Cuddy and Wilson. On the other hand he could just be over reacting.

Finally, the machine began. By the time he got the scan back, his leg was on fire. The Vicodin wasn't doing a damn thing now. He took the scans to the restroom and sat in a stall. As he looked at them, that flicker of hope he had experienced before soon was drenched. Three tumors. Close to the surface, which was really good if he wanted to perform surgery on himself. He tucked the scan into his belt, in the back to make sure they wouldn't fall, or be noticeable while walking. He would do the surgery tonight. Take the rest of the day off today, and the next 3. It only really hit him 10 minutes later that one of the best things to have ever happened to him had just failed. And he was paying a price for it.

He felt like shit, to be honest. He felt a cloak of darkness cover his mind, and knew it was going to make him suffer.

"Shit!" He yelled, and punched the wall of his office. A few small dents were left in the wall and bruised knuckles were in his future. At that, he decided to head home, not before gathering all the necessary supplies from the hospital. As well as questioning looks from a few nurses. He would set everything up when he got home, and assure Wilson that everything was fine so he didn't come running around to his apartment in the middle of the night. This was going to work, and no one would ever know.


	3. V Fib

Chapter 3

V-Fib

 **Oh things escalated very quickly in this chapter...yes they did. Please enjoy this! I'm expecting probably one more chapter out of this story, then I'll be heading over to Requiem For House to focus on that for a bit. I may upload one or two one shots within the next week. So keep your eyes pealed. Please review! And I hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

* * *

House climbed into the bathtub, his assortment of tools needed to perform the surgery sitting on a surgical tray next to him. Including his phone, which he grabbed as a safety precaution. Just in case something went wrong. He taped the x-ray of his leg to wall to his left, he tied a tourniquet as close to his hip as possible, trying to limit the amount of blood loss. He grabbed a syringe of Lidocaine, not so much as flinching as he injected himself with two more doses. It wasn't the pain he was worried about, it was the blood loss. He was unable to get a bag of replacement blood to transfuse during the surgery. Surprisingly it's extremely hard to steal blood. House was relying on the location of the tumors, they were close to the surface and all in a local proximity from each other.

He waited for the anesthetic to take effect, feeling his thigh go numb, before making his first incision with the scalpel. He didn't think it would be this hard to keep your hands steady when you were staring at your insides. He took a few deep breaths before cutting a little into the muscle to see the tumor. Grabbing his tweezers, he pinched the clump of tissue, a trail of blood dripping down the side of his leg. He carefully cut the pieces of the tumor connecting to his thigh and placed it in the metal basin to his right. One down, two to go. He referred back to the x-ray, pinpointing the next tumors location.

A shiver shook through him as he realized he was _actually_ performing surgery on himself. He shook the thought, steadying his hands once again and tried to steady his breathing. He took a few deep breaths and continued to make the second incision into the muscle, before he could even grasp the second tumor his hands started shaking uncontrollably. He could feel his chest tighten, his lungs squeezing air out. He tried again to steady his hands, blood was covering his gloved fingers, and he absent mindedly wondered how it got there. He dropped the tweezers and scalpel on the floor next to him and fumbled for his phone, blood smearing the screen. He speed dialed Wilson's number. No answer. He tried again, cursing in between breaths when it went to voicemail. He thought for a second, weighing his options. He then tried Foreman and Chase. To no avail.

There was only one person left... _Cuddy_. His red fingers hovered over the 2 button, her speed dial number, before he pressed it and held the phone to his ear. _Ring. Ring. Ring._ It rang a few more times before it went to voicemail. He tried again, _Ring...Ring...Ring_...

He almost hit the end button when a sleepy voice answered "House? What do you want? It's 2 in the morning." Cuddy said.

House gave a breathless laugh before "I need you to come over, I'm in a bit of trouble." His breathing already too fast.

"If you're calling me because you got into a bar fight you're getting 6 extra hours on your clinic duty. And why didn't you call Wilson?" She said quietly, trying not to wake Rachel.

"Already did, he didn't pick up. Now if you'd so kindly come over, I'd really appreciate it." She noticed his breathlessness and realized this wasn't just a prank.

"Alright fine, I'll be there in 15." She said, not waiting for an answer before hanging up.

She would have to wake Rachel up, only briefly thinking about leaving her sleeping quietly until she got back. But with House, she didn't know if she'd be back tonight, or later that morning.

* * *

5 minutes later, she was in the front seat of her car, a lightly sleeping Rachel buckled in the back, headed to House's flat.

She was pulling up to his building when she realized she didn't have a key. Hopefully he had a spare underneath the rug or something, because otherwise she wasn't being the hero tonight. She checked underneath the rug and above the door frame before she even tried the door handle. It was unlocked. She pushed the door open softly, holding Rachel's hand.

"House?" Checking the living room, "House?" she said again. She walked to the end of the hallway, opening the door to the bathroom. She saw a few surgical towels laying on the tiled floor before turning around, pushing Rachel into the living room, and turning the tv on for her. "Stay here, okay?" Cuddy said.

She walked back to the bathroom to find a trembling House sitting in his bathtub with his eyes closed. He was breathing heavily, and hadn't seemed to realize that Cuddy had showed up.

"House," she gave a short gasp, "You idiot!" She shouted. He cracked one eye open before speaking.

"I need you to excise the last two tumors. They're close to the surface, so it should be pretty qui-" Cuddy interrupted him

"I am _not_ enabling you. I'm calling 911." She reached for her phone.

"What? No! I was using experimental drugs, Cuddy. I could go to jail... _Again._ "

"If you were really worried, then you'd stop doing stupid stuff. There are much less self destructive ways of managing pain, House. You need to see a pain specialist." She paused, "Now I'm either calling 911, or you're going to let me take you to the hospital."

He waited, "Fine, my wheelchair is in the closet to the right." He said, leaning his head back against the wall and taking deep breaths. She moved the tray of tools away from the tub before turning and leaving the bathroom. Only to return a few minutes later with House's old wheelchair... the one from the infarction.

She had wrapped his leg with a towel to stop the blood. She put her hand out for him to grasp. He silently refused for about two seconds, before grabbing her arm and using his other to lever himself onto the edge of the tub. He lifted his leg over the edge with the help of Cuddy and scooted himself into the wheelchair. He gasped for breath, as even the Lidocaine couldn't mask the pain of moving his torn leg. The blood was soaking the towel and Cuddy quickly grabbed a second one as backup. She pushed him out to the door before grabbing Rachel and flipping the T.V off. She grabbed a pair of House's sneakers and slipped them onto his feet, without even tying the laces.

* * *

"Where are we going?" Rachel asked, rubbing her eyes as she scooted into the front seat.

"We're going to take House to the hospital, sweety." Cuddy buckled her in before moving to open the passenger door for House. She scooted him as close to the door as she could before he pulled himself into the car, grasping onto the roof for support. She held the towel in place as he made himself as comfortable as possible in the backseat. They were headed to the hospital not moments later.

They sat in silence for a total of 2 minutes before House started trying to make small talk.

"The lights red ye bloody scallywag" House said, in his best pirate voice.

Cuddy sighed, "Stop with the pirate talk."

He acknowledge Rachel, "If you don't want Brown Beard to end up with two wooden legs, you should get your ma to move this ship, ye mangy bilge rat." He said.

"You showed her that filthy cartoon." She shook her head, "What kind of idiot lets a three-year-old watch that? If you wanna lecture me on my poor judgment, there would seem to be more relevant examples."

She was following House, being pushed on a gurney to the hallway of the hospital, a gas leak had occurred, injuring a about 100 people, so naturally, a fraction of them would be sent to all of the local hospitals. He was hooked up to IV fluids and a heart monitor and told a doctor would be with them shortly, before the nurse left them.

House was lying on his side, his heart rate escalating a point every few minutes. 20 minutes later his heart rate was 125 and climbing. It was blinking red, sweat was accumulating in little beads on his forehead, and he was quietly gasping for breath.

Cuddy noticed, "House? House open your eyes." She said, she got up and looked at the monitor. "You're heart rates over 120," she felt his forehead, "you're clammy and gasping for breath. House, you're going into shock."

In between short gasps of breath he managed to get out, "I'm fine." He closed his eyes again.

"No, we need to get you into surgery...And where is that nurse?" She said, "come on Rachel we're going to go find that nurse." They walked off. House could feel his leg throbbing with pain underneath the towel, his leg had been wrapped in gauze to stop the bleeding. He sat there, eyes closed before he heard the monitor beep. Heart rate was 132...at this rate, he was headed to V-Fib. Fast. He started trying to lower his heart rate by slowing down his respiration's. But the harder he tried, the more intense the pain got. He saw Cuddy walking back with a nurse, as they got closer, he shouted, "Get a crash cart." Before his breath hitched in his chest and he gasped for breath...his body fell slack and the heart monitor beeped frantically.

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 **I'm so evil...leaving it on a cliff hanger like that, what's gonna happen to him? Please feel free to speculate wildly what I'm going to do to him, thanks for reading, and please don't forget to review!  
**

 **P.S. I've gotten a few messages about this story being Huddy...but it isn't, so I don't exactly know what their talking about. Nonetheless, thanks for reading.**


	4. Every Step

Chapter 4

Every Step

 **Welcome back my fellows. I hope you've enjoyed this story, because it's been a pleasure to write. Kind of a short one, but I think it was a good one. This chapter is going to start out in Cuddy's POV (but still not first person, just a different angle), picking up right where we left off in the last chapter. Please don't forget to review, and enjoy!**

* * *

Cuddy had dropped Rachel off at the daycare area for the doctors and nurses so she could get to sleep, and was now walking down the hallway. The nurse walking next to her was middle-aged and a little irritated that House's health had taken her away from something else she had been doing. As they turned the corner and House's still form came into view halfway down the hallway, she noticed the heart monitor blinking with three red digits.

Cuddy only realized what the numbers read when House suddenly yelled "Get a crash cart!"

The nurse was running towards the gurney having shouted "We need a crash cart over here!" before Cuddy could even register what was happening. _House is in V-fib._ She thought before quickening her pace to get next to House. A doctor had the paddles out and was getting ready to shock House. Cuddy noticed a thin white scar near House's collarbone. The shape and look of it told Cuddy it was intentional. She had never noticed it before, but as House was being shocked for the third time, her mind was pulled from the thought.

"Come on House." She whispered to herself, holding her hands.

"Charging, Clear!" House's body jumped a little, and finally "We've got a pulse."

She let out a breath she hadn't noticed she was holding.

"We need to get him into surgery, now." The doctor said, speaking to Cuddy and the young nurse next to him.

They were in the prep room, Cuddy watched House's pale form as he lay, completely still on the bed. His clothes had been removed and he was changed into a gown, and a blue blanket had been laid over him. A few minutes later they were ready to take him in.

"Will you be sitting in on the surgery, Dr. Cuddy?" The attending asked. Cuddy was caught off guard, thinking for a moment. House would want her in there, to make sure they didn't cut his leg off or remove more of the muscle than necessary. A slightly irrational fear, but she knew it would comfort him to know she was there.

"Yes, I will." She said, before going to scrub in.

* * *

House woke slowly. His mind was fuzzy, and he was afraid for a second that he had overdosed. Feeling the familiar fog of morphine in his system. He started to panic, he had let Wilson down, Cuddy, himself. He began hyperventilating when he felt a familiar hand on his arm, and Wilson came into view.

"House! House, calm down, you're hyperventilating." An oxygen mask was placed over his face. Seeing Wilson calmed House down. His breathing evening out slowly.

House pulled the mask off and laid it on the bed,

"Water." He rasped. Wilson gave him a few ice chips. "Anything else, you're majesty?" Wilson joked.

"Gotta pee." House said gracefully, flipping the blanket off his legs.

"You just had surgery, House." Wilson said, holding the empty urine bottle, but not stepping to help his friend.

"This is why we call you Captain Obvious." House swung his left leg over the bed first, followed by his right. He could feel the morphine doing it's job. Keeping the pain at bay. Finally, Wilson stepped around to offer a hand, but House smacked his hand away, eyeing him angrily. He pushed himself with both hands up from the bed, putting his right foot on the ground to test it. The leg immediately gave out, making House fall back onto the bed. The pain came through the misty fog of morphine, only to be ebbed back into it's cage.

"You're an ass." Wilson said after a few seconds.

House looked at him, "What, for trying to walk on a freshly mangled leg? Performing surgery on myself? For thinking I could solve my emotional problems with rat medicine? If you're gonna nag, at least have the decency to be specific." He tried to stand once again, but before he could test his weight Wilson was pulling House's right arm over his shoulder. Supporting most of House's weight.

"Come on. Listen to me. You can't keep going like this. Something has to change." Wilson said, taking the first step.

"Can I pee first?" Not looking at Wilson.

"House, you just performed surgery in your bath tub. Do you think I'm just going to let you self destruct? You need to see someone. A therapist, a pain management specialist. Someone who's not me, because I'm obviously not doing a good job with your pain management."

House waited, "I know." Was all he said.

"What...? I know I'll do it, or I know, now shut up?" Wilson said, stopping a few feet from the bathroom.

"Both. Before we discuss this any further," House motioned towards the bathroom, "let me pee first please." He said, making the rest of the way there and closing the door so Wilson couldn't follow him in.

* * *

House lent against the bathroom door frame after relieving himself. Clearly exhausted. Wilson was sitting outside the door in a wheelchair, but upon seeing House's appearance got up and stepped to re-establish his position on his right side.

"You okay?" Wilson said, noticing House's pallor.

"Fine." He said, stepping to sit in the wheelchair.

Wilson wheeled him back to the hospital room.

"So you'll see a pain management specialist?" Wilson started again after getting House situated in the hospital bed once again.

House was looking at the ceiling, thinking.

"Yeah, I will." He finally answered. He had been planning on it for a while. He had made a pact to himself that if this experimental medicine stopped working, he would go see a specialist. But it was supposed to be a secret, like everything else. Now Wilson knew. To be honest, House wanted Wilson there with him. He didn't want Wilson to leave. House knew that if he screwed this up, he would lose everyone. Cuddy, Wilson, his team. Everyone. It terrified him.

Somehow, Wilson knew what he had been thinking. He saw a familiar glint of fear in House's blue eyes. He stepped closer to the bed,

"House. I'm not leaving you. Not again. What happened with Amber was grief taking over. I'm sorry. I'm not leaving again, I promise." House's fear diminished as he realized Wilson wasn't lying. He could see it in his eyes. Jimmy would be there every step of the way.

* * *

 **We did it! My first completed story. Ah, it feels good. I hope you enjoyed this story. I know I sure enjoyed writing it. And contrary to popular belief, no, the ending does** _ **not**_ **make it slash.**

 ***Shameless self promotion* if you haven't already, go check out my other story** _ **Requiem For House**_ **, which is a lot longer than this one. Once again, I hope you enjoyed this last chapter, and don't forget to REVIEW!**


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